Grubs for Dinner.

Today’s post is for those of you who enjoy Extreme Cuisine, whether in reality or vicariously.

The Food Journal, (London, 1871-4) has been a marvelous source of food stories since I discovered it recently. Volume I contains the following article:

A FEAST ON WORMS.

Shakespeare asks, "Where is fancy bred; in the heart or in the head?" Without answering the question, we might certainly add that, to judge from what we are about to relate, it has no material connection with the gastronomic organs. If fancy and prejudice only keep neutral, there is no knowing what appetite may do. The stomach and the palate by themselves, uninfluenced through the mind, or rather its fancies, will truly stand anything that is not poisonous, painful, or, apart from its associations, absolutely nasty to the taste. We do not know whether such a divorce between fancy and the body has or has not its advantages. The French Society of Cultivators once sought to solve the point. In solemn conclave they voted a feast, at which a new dish should be the chief attraction. But what novelty could be found? Shall we say that, as savages love to consume their enemies, so these hardy agriculturists sought a palatable flavour in a fried worm? Certain it is that, two years ago, French agriculture was much plagued by worms, and the society chose the worm as the piece de resistance for their banquet. The choice of the species, however, was a matter of grave consideration; and only after much discussion the worm of the cockchafer was selected. This species had, by the way, proved itself the most injurious to the crops. It is known in France as the verblanc, because of its dirty white colour, and rejoices in six legs. Adepts chose a few of the youngest and most tender, while the cooks wisely decreed that they should be thrown into vinegar and water. The immersion made them disgorge the earth which they had swallowed. When thus cleaned, they were rolled in a paste of milk and flour, so as to give them a brittle crust. This much accomplished, the worms were taken in triumph to the Cafe Corazza, in the Palais Royal. This was the house selected for the banquet; but the manager had little suspected what he would be told to place in his cherished frying-pan. However, the chef of this fashionable dining place performed his duty punctually, and just at the right moment the worms were brought up hot and crisp to the banquet. Two were placed on each plate, and it is boastfully recorded that those who ate one ate the other. But more; there were eighty guests and 200 worms, so, perhaps, some might have had three. May this be a lesson to the fastidious who are too fanciful. What may we not accomplish with strength of mind?

The story was repeated by Peter Lund Simmonds in The Animal Food Resources of Different Nations (1885,) although he refers to the venue as the Café Custoza, and he gives us a recipe for the ‘worms.’

A few years ago at the Café Custoza, in Paris, a grand banquet was given for the special purpose of testing the vers blanc, or cockchafer worm.  This insect, it appears, was first steeped in vinegar, which had the effect of making it disgorge the earth, etc., it had swallowed while yet free; then it was carefully rolled up in a paste composed of flour, milk, and eggs, placed in a pan, and fried to a bright golden colour.  The guests were able to take this crisp and dry worm in their fingers. It cracked between their teeth.  There were some fifty persons present, and the majority had a second helping.  The larvae, or grubs, generally, not only of the cockchafer, but those of the ordinary beetles, may, according to some naturalists, be eaten safely.  Cats, turkeys, and different birds devour them eagerly.

We find in a Continental journal, the Gazette des Campagnes, the following receipt for cooking these insects,

which is adopted in certain parts of France :

" Roll the vers blancs, which are short and fat, in flour and bread crumbs, with a little salt and pepper, and wrap them in a stout piece of paper, well-buttered inside. Place it in the hot embers and leave it to cook for twenty minutes, more or less, according to the degree of heat. On opening the envelope a very appetizing odour exhales, which disposes one favourably to taste the delicacy, which will be more appreciated than snails, and will be declared one of the finest delicacies ever tasted." *

* Les Insectes Utiles, par Henri Miot, p. 89. Paris, 1870

Quotation for the Day.

You can never have enough garlic. With enough garlic, you can eat The New York Times.

Morley Safer

Black Bread Sandwich.

I remember some years ago including a recipe for ‘toast sandwiches’ in a blog post, and being very underwhelmed by the idea. It still remains in the ‘Why Bother?’ file in my head.

The recipe for toast sandwiches came from Mrs. Beeton’s Manual of Household Management. It was apparently intended for medicinal use, and certainly does have that bland and almost punitive lack of appeal that seemed to be a requirement of food for invalids of the time. It was almost as if tasty, tempting food might encourage invalid behaviour.

I came across a similar concept the other day, from the same era but different population. The Food Journal (London, 1870) had an article entitled The Working World: Holland. The following section details the worker's breakfast.

“The family breakfast consists of coffee with milk and sugar, and what may be called "black bread sandwiches,"a most universal article of diet in Holland, though perhaps more relished by the richer than the poorer classes, who usually prefer the white bread when they can get it. In this way they agree with the tastes of the English workman, who turns up his nose at anything but the whitest bread. The black bread is made by machinery, and left in the oven for 48 hours, acquiring at the end of this time a very dark colour, and a taste and consistence something like soft gingerbread. A slice of this is eaten at breakfast, placed between two thicker pieces of white bread and butter.”

I am intrigued by the idea of bread remaining in the oven for 48 hours, and would love some feedback if you are familiar with this technique.

As the recipe for the day, I give you a nice idea for using up your stale rye bread.

Black Bread Pudding.

Yolks of three eggs beaten with one cup of sugar; add one teaspoon of cinnamon, pinch of cloves, and pinch of allspice; one cup of stale rye bread crumbs added gradually. Mix well and add beaten whites. Bake slowly. Half an hour before serving, add one cup of claret or white wine. Serve with sherry wine sauce or whipped cream.

The International Jewish Cook Book: 1600 Recipes According to the Jewish Dietary Laws with the Rules for Kashering; the Favorite Recipes of America, Austria, Germany, Russia, France, Poland, Roumania, Etc., Etc (1919), by Florence Greenbaum.

Quotation for the Day.

Old bread isn't hard; what is hard is no bread.
Anon.

Alecsize that Fish!

I was greatly intrigued by the following statement, which I came across recently, on the methods used by ‘the Ancients’ to serve fish:

“The modes of dressing so approved a fish were endless. One way was to alecize or halecize it.”

Prose halieutics: or, Ancient and modern fish tattle (1854) C. D. Badham

Alecize? I had to hie me off to the Oxford English Dictionary for advice on the meaning of this word:

Alecize: Etymology:  < Latin ālec + -ize suffix. Compare Latin ālēcātus.

rare
To dress with alec sauce.

As the sole supporting reference for the usage of this word the above quotation was given, which did not help at all.  As there was no further discussion of the word, and in particular no clarification of the Latin word ālēcātus, I was none the wiser.  

I went back to the author of Prose Halieutics and found that the author gave an opinion on the sauce and its origins:

'Apicius,' says Pliny, ' not content with the invention of a garum to drown this fish in, went about to provoke men to devise a certain broth, made from it, like that sauce called alec, which cometh of fishes when they corrupt.' Mullets are too hard to take salt well, but make an excellent souse; the modern Venetians prepare it in this manner, keeping the flesh soaking some time in a pickle of capsicum vinegar, before preparing it for the table.

Still wishing to pursue the notion of ‘alec sauce’, I think I came a step closer with a definition frm

A new English dictionary on historical principles : founded mainly on the materials collected by the Philological Society (1888)

Halec, Halecize, var. ALEC, ALECIZE.

Halecoid, a. and sb. Ichth. [f. mod.L. Halecoides, f. halec, alec, sauce prepared  from small fish, and perh. the fish itself:.]

a. adj. Of or belonging to the herring family,

b. sb. A clupeoid fish.

Other sources suggest it was a ‘form of garum’ or ‘thickened form of garum.’ Oddly, perhaps, I have been unable to find any recipes for ‘alec sauce’ – although this may well be due to my poor linguist skills. Maybe one of you with knowledge of Latin, or ancient cookery, can help?

In the meanwhile, I give you several ideas for salty, fishy, sauces, from How to Cook Fish (1908) BY Myrtle Reed.

ANCHOVY SAUCE— I

Stir two tablespoonfuls of anchovy essence into one cupful of melted butter. Season with cayenne and powdered mace.

ANCHOVY SAUCE— II

Pound three anchovies smooth with three tablespoonfuls of butter, add two teaspoonfuls of vinegar and a quarter of a cupful of water. Bring to the boil and thicken with a tablespoonful of flour rubbed smooth in a little cold water. Strain through a sieve and serve hot.

ANCHOVY SAUCE— III

Add a tablespoonful of anchovy paste to a cupful of Drawn- Butter Sauce and season with lemon-juice and paprika.

Quotation for the Day.

He is no true fisherman who is willing to fish only when fish are biting.

Grover Cleveland (attrib.)

Dandelion and Burdock.

When I was growing up in the North of England many decades ago, a popular soft drink (soda, pop) flavour was ‘dandelion and burdock’. When I revisited the old country a couple of months ago, it appeared that those old wild foods now give flavour to cakes in trendy cafes and coffee shops. I don’t have a recipe for ‘Dandelion and Burdock Cake,’ but I am guessing a version of it could be made by substituting the beverage for Coca-Cola in a Coca-Cola Cake recipe.

Some time ago we talked about dandelion in a story called The Monk’sChoice. The other ingredient, burdock (or just ‘dock’) belongs to the Thistle family (Compositae.) It is a common wild plant, and a foragers dream. The roots, seeds, and leaves are all edible, and have a wide variety of uses historically, particularly for medicinal purposes.

Beer, of course, has been flavoured with a myriad ingredients over the millennia, including burdock. No doubt a liking for burdock beer was the stimulus for the production of a non-alcoholic version of the beverage, and perhaps this was led by Temperance supporters, in the same way that ‘root beer’ became an acceptable Prohibition drink in the USA?

Not all Prohibitionists agreed with root beer as a substitute for alcohol however.  Production of root beer still began with the fermentation process, and therefore contained ‘the intoxicating principle’ – up to a level of 5% in some beverages.

I give you a recipe for root beer which contains both dandelion and burdock. Let me know if you try it!

Root Beer.

For each gallon of water to be used, take hops; burdock, yellow dock, sarsaparilla, dandelion and spikenard roots, of each., 1-2 oz., bruised, boil about 20 minutes and strain; while hot add about 8 or 10 drops of oils of spruce and sassafras mixed in equal proportions; when cool enough not to scald your hand, put in two or three tablespoonfuls of yeast, molasses 2-3 of a pint, or white sugar 1-2 lb., gives it about the right sweetness. Keep these proportions for as many gallons as you wish to make. You can use more or less of the roots to suit your taste after trying it; it is best to get the dry roots, or dig them and let them get dry, and of course you can add any other root known to possess medicinal properties desired in the beer. After all is mixed let it stand in a jar with a cloth thrown over it, to work about two hours, then bottle and set in a cool place. This is a nice way to take Alternatives, without taking Medicine.
An Invaluable Collection of About Six Hundred Practical Recipes,by A.W. Chase, M.D. 1860

Quotation for the Day.

Fill with mingled cream and amber,

I will drain that glass again.

Such hilarious visions clamber

Through the chamber of my brain.

Quaintest thoughts, queerest fancies

Come to life and fade away.

What care I how time advances:

I am drinking ale today.

Edgar Allen Poe

Cheshire Cheese, Part 2

When I was in the UK recently, I enjoyed renewing my acquaintance with some of my favourite cheeses and meeting and befriending some new and different varieties. One of the old favourites I did not get to sample again (too many cheeses, not enough time … ) was Cheshire cheese.

Cheshire cheese is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, recorded named cheeses in British history. It was mentioned by Thomas Muffet in his work ‘Health's Improvement’, written about 1580. William Camden’s great work ‘Britannia’ (published, in Latin, in 1586) mentions it: the 1616 translation notes that ‘Cheshire Cheese is more agreeable and better relished than those of other parts of the kingdom,’ and the 1637 edition perhaps explains its popularity: ‘... the grasse and fodder there [in Cheshire] is of that goodness and vertue that the cheeses bee made heere in great number of a most pleasing and delicate taste, such as all England againe affordeth not the like; no, though the best dairy women otherwise and skilfullest in cheesemaking be had from hence.’

Another of the virtues of Cheshire cheese was that the harder varieties had a very long shelf-life, which meant that it was ideal for provisioning ships for long voyages. This particular aspect of the history of Cheshire cheese was the subject of a previous story, here.

http://www.theoldfoodie.com/2007/07/cheshire-cheese-at-sea.html

Today I give you several ways to use up your Cheshire cheese bits and pieces:

To Pot Cheshire Cheese

Take three pounds of Cheshire cheese, and put it into a mortar, with half a pound of the best fresh butter you can get, pound them together, and in the beating add a gill of rich Canary wine, and half an ounce of mace finely beat, then sifted like a fine powder. When all is extremely well mixed, press it hard down into a gallipot, cover it with clarified butter, and keep it cool. A slice of this exceeds all the cream cheese that can be made.

The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy (1774), Hannah Glasse

A Ramaquin of Cheese.

Beat a quarter of a pound of Gloucester, and the same quantity of Cheshire cheese; mix in two ounces of butter, half the crumb of a penny loaf soaked in cream, four yolks of cast eggs and one of the whites. Put it in a dish, and bake it in a moderate oven. Potted Cheese. Beat three pounds of Cheshire cheese in a mortar, with half a pound of butter; a large glass of sack, and about half an ounce of mace beaten and sifted. Mix it well, pot it up, and pour larified butter over it.

The Practice of Cookery, Pastry, and Confectionary (1820), Mrs. Frazer

Cheese Omelet or Pudding.

Grate four ounces of Cheshire cheese, mix it with two eggs well beaten, one ounce of fresh butter, and a cup of cream or milk. Bake it, and serve hot, with hot toast.

Cookery and Domestic Economy (1862), Mary Somerville.

A Cheshire Sandwich.

Take anchovies, Cheshire cheese, and butter, of each equal parts. Made mustard to the taste. Pound in a marble mortar till all the ingredients become well incorporated. Spread a knife pointful of this upon slices of white bread, and between two pieces put a thin slice of ham, or any kind of cold meat. Press together, and with a sharp knife divide the sandwich into mouthfuls.

Culina Famulatrix Medicinæ: Or, Receipts in Modern Cookery, with a Medical Commentary (1806)' Alexander Hunter.

Quotation for the Day.

I will make an end of my dinner; there's pippins and cheese to come.

William Shakespeare.